An evil soul
by Scarlet-Passion
Summary: Has anyone ever wondered what Angelus was actually thinking during those few times he was free? Or what Angel was thinking when he was barred from spreading good? Here is an attempt to delve into the mind of the demonic soul we all respect at the least.
1. Chapter 1

I prowled behind her, hiding myself in the shadow of the trees. She strode along throughout the streets, on the prowl as well.

Her feet walked in a stride that made her look graceful. Her blond hair was tied up in a tight bun. I remembered that pompous Angel loved her hair tied that way.

I was so glad he was gone.

I now finally had control over _my_ body, after a hundred years. And I planned on destroying that had made that goody-two-shoes disgrace of a demon happy. I hated Angel—and anything that defined his personality.

So I had decided to start with her.

Buffy stopped mid-stride. She lifted her stake and walked slower. She turned her head from left to right as she walked, her eyes focused on nothing else but her prey. Like a vicious predator looking for food.

Only this predator had spunk. And style.

I smirked to myself. She was truly a strange creature. She carried herself so differently from other slayers. She was the protector, yes. But her way of fighting and her sly comments made her unpredictable, resourceful.

And very clever.

This one was going to be very hard to defeat. Not even Spike, who had taken the life of two slayers, could defeat her. Of course, he was an idiot. So it really didn't matter.

Two vampire attacked her. She did a sweep kick to one, knocking him off his feet. She flipped another over her shoulder. She looked at them….bored. Not witty comment escaped her mouth. Her full, red lips didn't form a single word.

She stabbed them both before they could even collect themselves. She was fast. I took a look at her eyes. I saw something there that I hadn't noticed before.

Her eyes were focused….but they weren't dancing fire. Not the way I remembered through Angel's eyes. Not the way they were when Angel was around. They were sorrowful…lost…dark…

I felt something strange flip in my dead stomach.

Seeing her hurt brought satisfaction to me, naturally. But, there was something else. Something that I had never, _ever_ felt before. I couldn't comprehend the emotion. I had never felt this way about anyone, even Darla.

What was it? And why did the way her eyes were affect me in anyway badly?

I was evil. The worst there was. I was merciless.

So why did I feel as if I should throw my body in front of hers?

I pushed the urge to the back of my mind, preparing myself to deal with it later…..


	2. Chapter 2

I narrowly made it to the mansion as the sun rose on the horizon. What I would do to be able to go out into the sun.

Killing obviously won't do it. I'd tried it uncountable times.

The first thing to meet me was Spike…in his wheelchair. "Well, hello, Angelus. What have you found about the slayer this time?" he asked, bitterness radiating in his voice.

He was obviously putting up an act for Drusilla. Poor fool. She was only using him. "Nothing of your concern, Mr. Whealy" I replied. I winced at myself. I was really out of it, if I couldn't think of a simple name Spike.

"Mr. Whealy? Where did you get that one, Dawson's Creek?" Spike asked with a tongue-in-cheek smile. I ignored him, trying my best not to get annoyed.

I had to admit I agreed with Angel on one thing. Spike was a pain in my ass. Less like a friend, more like an inedible little brother.

I sighed to myself as I walked past him. I walked off to the room where I thought. Spike would never let me be about my 'thinking space'. Yes, even the soulless villain had problems.

"Have fun 'working out your problems'. Have you thought about seeing Dr. Phil?" he asked, sarcastically. I tensed my muscles, ignoring his comment.

I closed the door, which was made of pure steel.

It kept everything else out, if I kept my instincts human. I hated myself whenever I lowered myself to using my human instincts.

But it was the only way to keep the sound of the disgusting lips of Spike touching my creation's skin out.

I shuddered.

I focused my thoughts on one thing only. What had happened to me tonight? My plan had worked out perfectly.

I remembered every move she made and every look she had on her face.

I even remembered her eyes. A picture of her dancing, fiery eyes jumped into my mind.

I found myself breathing hard at the perfect image I saw of her. She was absolutely….an abomination.

I forced myself to think the word.

The feeling I had had tonight was so strange. When I had seen that look in her eyes, I had almost drowned in my satisfaction. But that's not what had confused me.

When I was almost all the way in the darkness, I found myself looking into something bright. It wasn't the blinding light of my soul. It was something else….

I couldn't even identify it.

It was so odd. I was so off, with this condition I have. I didn't feel guilty for my actions. So my soul was gone, thank the heavens. So why did I feel this away about Buffy?

Or an even simpler question, what was it I was feeling? Her dead, burning eyes sprung into my mind again. The same feeling jumped free again and I clutched my stomach in emotional pain.

What was going on? It was as if I was feeling her pain within myself!

How could I be feeling this way? I was evil. I couldn't feel this way.

For the entire day, I looked out the window.

I was so lost on why I felt this way.

Pained and longing for something…_warm_. Buffy's hand. I clutched my hands in anger. I sighed out through my teeth.

The sun finally began to set, and I prepared myself to observe her again. To find her weakness.

To find what will be her death.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks were pure entertainment. I loved watching Buffy in the morning as she remembered everyday that I was no longer Angel. She would wake crying sometimes in the middle of the night and it was purely humorous.

I would have to cover my mouth to laugh.

But as I sat in her room tonight, sketching her sleeping face, part of me couldn't help but feel….happy. Ever since that one night where she had gone hunting, emotions were rising in me that I had never felt when I was evil before. Now I was finally free, and life was good.

But it came with a price.

Buffy moved slightly, seeming not to notice me. It was strange, how a part of me wished she was awake. I knew that I would be literally dead meat if she saw me now. I didn't have any weapons on me because I expected her to keep sleeping. Technically, I am Angel. So she was merely comforted by my presence.

I dragged the pencil over the piece of parchment I had picked up at the art store. I looked up at her every few seconds, determined not to let _those_ feelings rise up in my time of concentration.

I was drawing her closed eyes when I heard it. She muttered faintly in her sleep. She only said it once, and I wasn't even sure I had heard it right. I shrugged it off and returned my eyes to the paper.

"Angel," she whispered louder.

I looked up and an involuntary shock of pleasure ran through me. A small smile spread across my face, and my hand started to tingle, as if it wanted to stroke her face…

I growled quietly at myself, feeling totally sickened by my reaction. How could be so week? Buffy couldn't possible have this handle on me. Not even Darla, my dark goddess, could influence me this way. I then felt an involuntary feel of anticipation and excitement.

I couldn't locate where that had stemmed from.

I placed my hand over my face in frustration. What was wrong with me? Or more, what was right with me?

I heard a slight groan from Buffy and then she muttered, "Angel," again.

I took my hand off my face to see that her eyes were opened. I almost jumped off the bed in defense. But when Buffy's muscles didn't tense or she didn't prepare to attack, I relaxed.

I looked at her green closely to see that they were glassy, foggy. She must just be having a bout of sleeping walking. I looked at her eyes deeply, not noticing until now how sad they looked.

I had seen her sadness firsthand, hell; I had caused most of it. But there was something about her now, at this very moment, which tore at my insides. I was sure she was asleep, but tears poured out of her eyes. They were saddened in a way that couldn't bring me any pleasure.

More so, they…made my chest ache in a way, that if I was human, my breath would be taken away. "B-Buffy?" I stuttered out before I could even think.

I held my breath involuntarily, waiting for her to speak. To my great surprise and dreaded bliss, she smiled. "Angel, you're back," she said, her voice full of something that had me stunned for a good ten seconds.

The dream smile was still plastered on her face when I finally moved. I didn't what or why I was doing it. But instead of doing something totally vile and evil, I two fingers up to her cheek….and stroked it.

My stomach twisted in happiness and revulsion at the same time. My entire mind was screaming, _STOP IT!!!!_

But I couldn't.

Something in me felt good as I stroked her cheek. She eventually closed her eyes and her breathing became level.

A part of me just wanted to sit there for hours and just listen to her breath. It was like a music that made shivers run down my spine. Panic rose in me and I ran my hand through my hair.

I continued to sketch her as intricately as I could, but part of me just wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her all over. I eventually just set down the picture, not even able to finish. I was dissatisfied with the drawing, but to everyone else, it probably looked professional.

I walked over to Buffy's window and took one last look at my prey. I was about to mutter something overdramatically evil, when a sentence that disgusted me ran through my mind. _Goodbye, my love._

That one sentence made me feel so many things at once, but the strongest on was agony.

I would later tell myself that I was just manipulating her in the most personal way. Love. But, underneath it all, I knew that it was total crap that I was saying.

And I hated myself for being week.


End file.
